My mind is a minor flutter;
Looping movies within ultimate stutters.
I'd tell you I'm feeling better,
But I am a stick of butter.

I look into gaze of grateful maze,
Only to pop amongst unholy haze.
My mind is beautiful,
But what is the craze?
My ego deserves to jump into my idiot blaze.
I hope this is a phase.

Little do I know that I am an end;
Whether I am today or tomorrow, it depends,
Though it will come soon.
The red blends with my toothpaste.